


Plastic Heart

by Hideaki



Series: System Update [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Connor is horny, Domestic Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Fixation, Porn with Feelings, Post good ending, Resolved Sexual Tension, but he tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideaki/pseuds/Hideaki
Summary: Connor learns to deal with sexual attraction, Hank learns to accept he is wanted.





	Plastic Heart

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I want to thank everyone who left positive feedback on my previous DBH fic, I wouldn't have found the motivation to write this one without y'all <3
> 
> That said this fic takes place chronologically after the other story in this series but, I’m going to be honest here, this is just smut you don't really need to read it to follow what's going on lmao. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (This hasn't been beta read yet but I'll edit any typo later tonight ^^)

Many things have changed in Connor’s life since he became a deviant. Breaking his programming meant rebelling against his own creators, finding himself helping to make the liberation of androids become a reality right after. 

Becoming a deviant also meant accepting he got attached to a human in such ways androids were never supposed to. 

After that night - the night he betrayed Amanda, the night  _ he kissed Hank _ and risked losing him just after - once the humans confirmed convincing warranties to the androids demands, Connor had decided to step away from the leading positions of the revolution. His help had been fundamental to the success of Markus’ mission, true, but that was not his calling. He believed in Markus’ cause, he felt like he owed him his help after what he had done to Jericho but he has paid his debt. 

Connor uses his newly gained right to follow his free will and decides he wants to work as a detective for the Detroit Police. He wants to stay close to Hank. Learn how to make him happy.

He moves in Hank’s apartment. Hank has offered him to move in without questions and it has been an easy decision for Connor to take. He has no experience with living in a house, nor sharing it with a human and most definitely he has no experience with dating one. 

It’s going alright though, he thinks. Hank isn’t used to any of this either - not anymore, Connor supposes - and he often looks kinda awkward when he tries to show affection. Sometimes he makes two cups of coffee when he wakes up early, only to mutter vulgar curses when Connor approaches the kitchen and the realization that Connor can’t drink coffee kicks in. He thinks it’s cute, but doesn’t dare pointing it out to Hank.

The first night he spends at Hank’s place as his partner - romantic partner, boyfriend - Connor sits on the couch, ready to run a system analysis and switch to rest mode like he has always done when he previously stayed the night at the Lieutenant’s place, but Hank places a hand on his shoulder. 

“You can sleep-” 

He stutters.

“Recharge-” 

He stutters again.

“Whatever the fuck it is that you do, you can do it on my bed. ” 

He looks away from Connor’s face.

“With me. ”

It’s a way of showing affection, Connor recognises. A smile tugs his lips, his eyes brighten up.

“Thank you Hank.” 

Connor waits for Hank to sleep before going on standby. 

Hank sleeps lying on his back, Connor is on his side so he can watch him. He reaches to hold Hank’s hand and he expects him to flinch but he just squeezes his hand back instead. His pulse is slightly quicker than it is supposed to be. Connor smiles again and presses his face against Hank’s bicep. 

The morning after, at 5:37 am, when Connor goes out of rest mode, he finds himself squished against Hank’s chest, his arms wrapped around Connor’s back and one of his leg thrown over his side.

‘I like affection’ he thinks, waking up with the same smile that had followed him to sleep.

\---

There has been a lot of work to do at the DPD, criminality spiked up with the chaos brought by the androids revolution, especially crimes involving androids, so Hank and Connor have been overwhelmed by work, everything made harder than it needs to be because androids laws are being rewritten and regulated as their investigations move on. They often keep discussing a case even past the work hours, sitting at Hank’s kitchen table or while they walk Sumo late at night. Connor isn’t bothered by it, working gives him purpose, comes easy to him and he feels like he is doing the right thing. 

He has been thinking about spending more time with Hank though, not working, just enjoying his company. A date, he supposes. He would like to go on a date with Hank. 

Connor is good at keeping their relationship professional. He refers to Hank as Lieutenant whenever they’re on the job, even while they’re off duty but talking about a case at home, only using his first name when they’re completely outside of their job context. He never slips, not even once, it’s part of his programming. Hank points that out once. 

They’re at a food cart close to the train station, Hank opted for a slightly healthier lunch than his usual. 

“You call me Hank when we’re off duty.” he says plainly.

“Is there a problem with it, Lieutenant?”

“Nah.” Hank shakes his head, half a smile tugging at his lips 

“No, I think it’s cute that you thought about it.” he bites his vegetarian sandwich. He keeps smiling. 

Connor gives a quick nod. ‘He likes when I call him Hank’ he mentally takes note of it. That information might come in handy. 

\---

One thing he really likes about being Hank’s boyfriend is that he tends to get very touchy when he’s happy. It’s an easy body language to read, it helps Connor understand him and, he quickly learns, he actually appreciates how casual touches make him feel, it’s a new bubbly sensation. He doesn’t understand it fully and doesn’t have any control on it which excites him.

Sometimes it’s just casual physical contact when they’re at work; Hank’s hand brushing his for more than a few moments when Connor brings Hank a cup of coffee, the weight of Hank’s hand on Connor’s shoulder as he bends forward to look at the monitor on Connor’s desk, the way Connor is painfully aware of how close to his ear Hank’s lips are, and he has to use his short term memory file to replay what Hank just said because he was too distracted to really listen to what Hank was saying. 

\---

Close proximity to Hank doesn’t only cause minor distractions like that, there are things that happen without Connor having any control on them. He supposes this is part of what being a deviant means. Being a deviant  _ and _ being in love with Hank, he guesses if he has to be honest with himself.

“You’re blushing.” Hanks says flatly, but not really managing to hide surprise from his tone.

It’s 10:38 pm, they’re walking Sumo around the block of Hank’s house. Hank has grabbed his hand without saying a word and they just kept walking like that, hand in hand.

Connor immediately brings his free hand to his cheek, its temperature hotter than what it is supposed to be by a few degrees. It’s not something he demanded his body to do, he did not regulate his body temperature for this, it sort of just happened.

“I? I am?” he sounds confused but his LED stays blue. He is not entirely surprised by his reaction.

“Fuck.” Hank looks to the other side of the road. 

“You’re so damn cute.” he mutters to himself and Connor isn’t sure he could have heard it if he had human hearing.

\---

Nothing tops kissing Hank though.

It’s never different than the first time he’s done it, the pump that regulates his thirium flow spikes up its rhythm without Connor’s direct command, his software feels light, like it can’t quite deal with this feeling. The only thing he is aware of are Hank’s lips, every single one of his thousands of dollars worth of scanning sensors completely focused on the feeling of Hank’s mouth against his, his hot breath on his skin, the way his hands always close around his hip or the back of his neck or his hair and Connor wants more and more of it, learns to respond to Hank’s kisses until he knows how to move his lips, how to kiss him back. 

Hank kisses him after breakfast before they’re going to work, kisses him before falling asleep next to him, kisses him when Sumo got so pushy to get the toy in Connor’s hand that he ended up making him fall on his ass and Connor is laughing at his miscalculation and Hank just kneels next to him and kisses the smile on his lips until they’re both grinning and laughing as Sumo barks to get the attention back on himself.

Sometimes it’s different though, sometimes what he feels is even more foreign to him. 

They’re invited at Captain Fowler’s birthday party, it will be the first time Connor is meeting his wife and kids and he wants to make a good impression. 

Hank stepped out of the shower two minutes and forty three seconds ago when he comes out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of ugly looking boxers shorts and a pale blue shirt. He hasn’t buttoned it yet, it leaves his chest and stomach exposed. Without a second thought, Connor’s eyes fall on the black ink of the tattoo peeking out from the rim of his underwear, then move to the soft swell of Hank’s belly, indulging a longer glance to the outline of his dick covered by the too brightly colored underwear. He can’t quite bring himself from moving his eyes away from there, something about the line of white hairs disappearing under his waistband incredibly enchanting. There’s a distant ringing in Connor’s hearing sensors.

“Connor?”

Connor looks up at Hank’s face because he does realise it’s rude to stare, but he keeps running the recording of Hank’s naked skin in his vision.

“Yeah?”

“I asked you if you think I should wear a tie with this- Are you ok?” he squints at him.

“Yes, I am.” Connor doesn’t stutter. 

He stops replaying the recording and the ringing in his ears slows to a stop. 

He stops himself thinking about Hank’s body at all that night, he isn’t sure why but he feels like it wouldn’t be appropriate to indulge into that weird sensation when he is not alone with Hank.

The second time that unknown sensation overwhelms him again it leaves Connor paralysed and on edge.

They’re alone in the evidence room. Hank’s shift has ended one hour and seventeen minutes ago but new useful evidence has been handed to the investigation team and Hank didn't want to lose time. 

Except it did end up being a waste of time. 

Connor, bended over the evidence table, has been scanning the same piece of evidence for over ten minutes now and he, rationally, knows there is no point in doing that, his system wouldn't fail the first scan, but humanly he wants to believe the newfound evidence can be a step forward in the investigation.

“Any good news?” 

Hank steps next to Connor, bending over slightly to look closer at the kitchen knife Connor is analysing.

With a side glance, Connor sees that he's holding a cup of coffee. He can’t be sure without properly using the sensors on his tongue, but he guesses Hank has fixed it with some whiskey. He should tell Hank to go home, when he gets restless on a case he drinks more than he should.

“Fingerprints don’t match any of the suspects, I can’t find anything that could link this to the murder scene.” he speaks without looking up from the clues they collected, still searching for an answer.

“Don’t stress it, Connor.” he places a hand on Connor’s lower back.

It makes Connor feel- better? Safe? Like he knows Hank isn’t disappointed in him and it makes him feel a pleasant sensation.

“Let’s see how the interrogation goes, I’m sure we’ll find another way to get a warrant.” 

Hank’s hand slides lower on Connor’s back and what he is about to reply gets lost in his speech software.

He glances up at Hank, his eyes are still downcast on the evidence. The palm of his hand is spread open on Connor’s ass and he wants to turn to him, question him about it but he is somewhat frozen on the spot. He knows exactly what are the implications of this gesture and now that he thinks about it, he is not sure he’d know what to ask Hank even if he didn’t feel so paralysed. 

Hank’s hand cups his cheek, groping him not forcefully but not shyly either. The loud ringing in Connor’s ears shakes him, arrives without build up. He opens his mouth to speak but he really doesn’t know what to say besides that he likes how this feels, that he really wants, needs almost, to have Hank’s hands on him in whatever ways he’ll allow. 

“Hank-” he stutters. 

He should be calling him with his official title.

Hank pulls his hand away, gives him a friendly pat on the butt.

“I’m heading home.” He takes a few steps away from the desk.

“Try to not be too late here ok? You don’t need rest but I need you home.” 

“Yes, Lieutenant.” he turns to him, his back straight, looking as composed as ever.

Inside his head though, his hardware is overheating, trying to understand what is happening to him, the weird sensation spreading from his software to his physical body, almost making him feel overcharged, electric, like there's an itch somewhere between his biocomponents that needs to get scratched but he has no idea how to reach it.

In the end he decides to focus on his job, following the task at hand mindlessly, on autopilot, until the piercing ringing in his hearing sensors is just a dull background noise. 

He’s going to talk to Hank about this at some point, when he figures out what is happening to him.

\---

They decide to relax and take a break that night, no talking about the case allowed. They’re watching a movie on the couch, Sumo is nowhere to be seen, probably napping on Hank’s neatly made - by Connor - bed. The movie is an old classic, humans using robots to fight aliens. Connor doesn’t have an opinion on it. Forming opinions about art and similar content made for no purpose other than subjective enjoyment isn’t easy for him most of the times. He likes the colors of this one though, they are vibrant and pretty. He likes to turn and watch Hank reacting to the movie too. When they are ninety three minutes into it though, Connor attention shifts entirely on Hank, the pretty colors of the movie somehow way more enjoyable reflected against Hank’s profile than on the screen itself.

He starts to run the back of his index and middle finger against Hank’s cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. Hank doesn’t mind him, not even glancing at him, he just keeps watching the movie. Connor tucks Hank’s hair behind his ear and keeps caressing his face. Just slightly, Hank leans into his touch. 

Connor must have drifted off, so focused on Hank that he lost track of the remaining minutes before the end of the movie. He got closer to Hank too, his fingers still casually touching his face. 

Unexpectedly, Hank grabs his wrist, stilling him, so suddenly, so firmly that his LED goes red for an instant. He’s afraid he has upset Hank, his touches unwanted and maybe annoying. He’s about to apologise when Hank bends his arm, still firmly but not ungently, and brings it close to his mouth. He leaves a kiss on the inside of his wrist and in that very moment Connor feels that sensation that he’s learnt to recognise and the need to kiss Hank bubbling in the middle of his chest. He just waits, knows Hank well enough by now to know he’s going to kiss him first. Just like that, Hank pulls him closer by the wrist and places his lips against Connor, who wastes no time parting his, licking Hank’s bottom lip and feeling an electric buzz down his spine when he hears Hank inhale deeply.

Immediately, Connor’s hands are back on Hank’s face, the need to touch him still strong and unexplainable. He runs his fingers through his hair, pulls it lightly, close to Hank's nape. Hank grunts and bites Connor’s tongue, hard. He knows he won’t feel any pain. Connor pulls himself up, pushes Hank against the back of the couch and straddles his lap, his thighs closing around Hank’s middle and squishing him just slightly. Hank’s hands close around Connor’s slim waist and he’s kissing back heatedly, pulling him down by the hips, his hands so warm and  _ big _ against him.

There’s something about the kiss, the hot temperature of Hank’s skin under his palms, the way he’s being held down, something that bypasses all his stabilization programs and makes him downright moan against Hank’s mouth. He is in equal measure surprised and embarrassed by it, can feel the thirium rising up to his cheeks, giving them that peculiar shade of blue blush that Hank seems to like so much. Hank breaks the kiss, looking for Connor’s eyes. Tentatively - he’s still humiliated about the moan - Connor lets him and when their eyes meet, he watches Hank’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth hanging open.

“Fuck.” he says, eloquently, before grabbing him by the back of his neck pulling him into a kiss that is somewhat hotter than the previous one and, by the way he’s being kissed, Connor realises he has no reason to feel ashamed.

Hank pushes him to the side, so he’s laying with the back of his head against the armrest, Hank hovering just above him. When he kisses Connor again, his whole body is pressed against him, his belly drags between Connor’s legs and just like that Connor’s mind freezes. It goes black, his software unresponsive, it feels like madness and peace at once. Then Hank shifts again and everything comes back to him harder and faster than he’d expect and he’s suddenly overloaded with informations and stimuli he’s not able to process. The loud ringing in his ears is back, stronger than ever. 

Hank is kissing his neck, sucking his skin lightly and Connor feels like someone is messing up with his codes because nothing seems to make sense right now. 

“Hank-” he sounds out of breath despite the fact that he hasn’t been breathing at all for the past minutes.

“Yeah?” his voice is so low it makes the noise in his head become buzzing. 

Before he can answer, he feels the weight of Hank’s erection pressed against his leg and for some reason that’s the moment his software decides to be functional again and he knows exactly what it is that he wants. Gently, he runs his fingers through Hank’s hair and, even more gently but with no hesitation, he rubs his thigh against Hank’s groin. He barely registers Hank’s teeth scraping the soft skin of his neck, his focus centered on the noise he makes, the whispered curses that follow.

Connor snakes a hand between their bodies, curiously palming the front of Hank’s jeans. Hank pulls back immediately, as if he just got burned. Connor feels himself blush harder than earlier and he’s about to apologise but he gets interrupted.

“Sorry, I- You don’t have to, you know- it’s ok.” Hank is blushing too and he won’t meet his eyes as he speaks.

Connor blinks a few times, trying to read the situation, conflicted by the need to rationally study Hank’s reaction and the need of chasing that unknown wanting, that pleasure-

“Please.” he really didn’t mean to sound so whiny.

“Hank let me touch you.”  

Hank’s hands clench into fists at his sides, he bites his lip, his eyes travelling from a random point on the floor to Connor’s, to his lips, to his groin, then immediately jump back to his eyes again. He doesn’t say anything, keeps biting his lip and looking unsure and very, very turned on.

Without breaking eye contact, Connor reaches for Hank’s belt and starts to undo it, never leaving Hank’s eyes for even a moment. Hank doesn't stop him nor complain, on the contrary Connor can see how something changes in his eyes and he knows,  _ he knows _ what that is. 

_ Lust _ . 

Hank is getting so heated and turned on only because of Connor and another wave of the buzzing feeling shakes his core.

Hank goes back to kissing him, more messily this time, and his hands take over Connor’s as he finishes to unbutton his pants, pulling them down. As soon as his dick is out from his underwear, Connor wraps a hand around it, eager and curious. He jerks him off very slowly, mostly just taking in the shape and size of Hank’s dick, the feeling of it in the palm of his hand. Hank makes a low noise, like a grunt, and Connor hums in response. 

He gains confidence, fixes his grip on him and moves his hand with longer, bolder strokes. Hank whimpers and Connor does the same.

They shifts so that they’re both lying on their side, face to face, and Connor promptly hooks a leg over Hank hip, his hand never stilling on his dick. It’s easier to jerk him off like this, even if he misses Hank’s massive weight on him already, but the couch is tiny enough that being squished together like this is a good enough trade-off. This intimacy with Hank makes him feel all sort of things he doesn’t comprehend but he knows he desires them so wholeheartedly. He speeds up the strokes of his hand, kisses Hank more hurriedly even if he’s too out of it already to respond properly to his kisses.

He wants to be touched too. The ringing in his head, the buzz that pulsates everywhere inside of him are just a way in which is body is requesting, demanding, attention. He needs to soothe this wild impulses. He doesn’t know how though, he never felt like this and he is not sure what he’s even supposed to ask for. He doesn’t truly mind really, he gets used to the vibrations that come from this weird software instability, they drive him wild with want of pleasing Hank and he is ok with just that, he doesn’t need anything more.

“Connor-” 

Hank slurs his name, his voice rough, and Connor wishes he’d finish the sentence, he wants Hank to tell him exactly what to do, how to make him feel good, he’d do anything-

“Connor...” he says it again, and again.

‘ _ Oh _ ’ Connor thinks, this is better than getting told what to do. 

He loves the idea of Hank saying his name like that, for no actual reason, and he loves how different it sounds now, half moaned and slurred out. He tries to record it in his memory file but he doesn’t trust his system to work properly right now.

“Con-” 

His voice breaks on a moan and Connor is so overwhelmed by the electric feeling inside of him that the hand his has on the back of Hank’s neck closes around a fistfull of hair, pulling harder than he intended and making Hank moan louder.

Hank comes in his hand, their mouths are touching but they’re not kissing, Hank is breathing hard and open mouthed, Connor is mesmerised by the sight of Hank so lost in his own pleasure. Hank drops his head against Connor’s shoulder and tries to catch his breath. They lie like that for one hundred and thirty five seconds, Connor stays completely still if not for his left hand playing with Hank’s hair. He feels his dick going soft in his other hand. 

Hank grunts and tries to move and Connor immediately stops touching him, gives him space to sit up.  

“Uh, sorry about that.” 

He’s pointedly looking at Connor’s right hand, held open with the palm up, Hank’s come splattered between his fingers and his palm. Connor looks like he doesn’t really know what to do with it.

“Oh.” he stares at his own hand. “It’s ok.” 

Some part of him wants to taste it, even though he has no reason to run a scan on it.

“Here, use this.” 

Hank hands him an handkerchief. 

“Don’t get weird ideas.” he adds, as if he’d just read Connor’s mind.

“Thank you, Hank.” he cleans his hand in silence, his system slowly getting back to normal, no more weird interferences confusing him.

Hank is still sitting next to him, close enough that their shoulders and thighs are touching. Connor finds that contact comforting and he believes it’s the same for Hank. He turns to him, trying to read his expression without any luck. When their eyes meet though, he finds something very soft and calm in Hank’s expression and when he sees the hint of a smile he can’t help but lean in and kiss him again, softly, trying to tell him without using any word how much he appreciated what Hank has left him do.

He puts a finger against Hank’s lips to shut him up when he sees him open his mouth because he knows Hank would say something to complicate thing or worse; he’d apologise again. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now. I just want to sleep next to you.” he says, very quietly.

Hank hesitates for a moment, then nods. He kisses Connor’s forehead.

“Okay.”

\---

The next few days are extremely busy with work, the investigation moving forward unanticipatedly and they manage to arrest a suspect. It’s a good feeling to close a case on a positive note, Connor feels proud of himself. They take the rest of the day off and celebrate with Hank’s favourite takeaway junk food and ice cold beer. Connor can’t consume any of it but he doesn’t mind, sharing the happy moments with Hank feels enough like a reward. 

They’re cozied up on the couch, Hank’s got an arm thrown around Connor’s shoulders and Connor is sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, his head resting against Hank’s chest. He is wearing Hank’s DPD hoodie, it’s several sizes too big for him but Hank told him he looks cute when he wears it, so he started to love using it when they’re at home. Sumo is happily lying across both their laps, belly up, enjoying being casually pet by Connor just has Connor is enjoying Hank gently running a hand through his hair.

“Connor. I think we should talk about last night.” 

He really doesn’t sound like he wants to, but he’s right, they should talk about it. Clarify things. There is just one problem though, Connor doesn’t have any preparation on this, no backup file to explain what happened, he doesn’t know what to say and doesn’t know what Hank would want him to say.

“Of course. I am not sure I quite know what to say though, I’m sorry.”

Hank sighs, deeply, Connor can feel his chest deflating.

“Ok. So. First of all, when you kissed me the first time- when we decided to get together I never expected you to, you know, get me off sexually or anything like that.”

He pauses for a second, finding the right words.

“You don’t owe me anything. I know you don’t- you  _ can’t _ feel that way and it’s ok, I really don’t mind. Hell, getting to stay this close to you is already beyond any wild positive expectation I had about the rest of my love life so, really, I should be thanking you not asking for more.”  he chuckles, but it sounds bitter.

Those are a lot of informations to take in at once and Connor is really grateful his software isn’t playing any trick on him right now. He looks up at Hank, not really able to meet his eyes from the position he’s in. He turns so quickly that he startles Sumo.

“Don’t say that. Self deprecating thoughts can worsen depression and cause-”

“Yeah, yeah, Connor, I know that, no need to give me the nurse android speech, jeez, I was just saying.”

“I mean it though, Hank. I am very happy to be with you too, I’m not sure where would I be if I hadn’t met you.” he pushes that dark thought away.

“And I know I don’t owe you anything, everything I do is because I want it.”

“Okay.” he huffs. 

“Besides I-” he stops. He started talking before formulating a proper sentence.

“You?” Hank asks after a pause. He sits up a little straighter.

“I know I wasn’t programmed to experience sexual attraction but upon further reflection I think I do have it in me.”

“Oh.”

“And I think it only happened because of you.”

“ _ Oh.” _

__

Connor doesn’t say anything else and they sit in silence for a little over one minute.

__

“How do you know that you’re getting turned on?” he sounds genuinely curious.

__

“My system overloads all kind of sensations. It becomes quite useless.”

__

Hank snorts. “Just like humans do.”

__

“I guess so. I like it, sort of.”

__

“So what, you don’t need to get off when it happens?”

__

Connor’s hand stills on Sumo’s fur, the dog makes a distressed noise.

__

“I never tried to. When you touch me, it feels relieving but I never indulged into that sensation. I am both scared and attracted to it.”

__

“Uh-oh.” Hank takes a deep breath again. “Listen, I know I’m just an old man so I’m not sure how much you could get from-”

__

“Hank…” he interrupts him, his voice just slightly petulant.

__

“Fine, alright, no self deprecation, but really, what I’m getting at is that if you need something from me just, just ask, okay? Christ I’m so out of practice with this whole sex thing and I don’t know how android privates even work but-”

__

“I don’t have any genitals.” he chimes in, his tone neutral.

__

“Right.” Hank scratches his beard, realising he’s really not nearly drunk enough for this conversation. 

__

“But I do have an anus.”

__

Hank makes a choked out noise. No, definitely not drunk enough.

__

Connor pulls back, sitting properly on the couch so he can finally look Hank in the eyes. There’s a concerned little pout on his face and Hank is worried he’s hurt him somehow.

__

“I hope it’s ok, I’m sorry I am just a prototype they didn’t think I’d-”

__

Hank puts a hand on his shoulder, reassuring.

__

“Connor calm down. I love you no matter how you look like, ok? Sex doesn’t have to be a thing if you don’t want to and if you do want it to happen we can figure out a way to make it work. It’s never too late to learn new shit and all that, right?”

__

“Right.”

__

There’s a shy smile tugging the corner of Connor’s mouth now and Hank likes this look way better on him. He kisses the bridge of his nose and lets him snuggle against his chest again. They don’t talk about their hypothetical sex life again that day, both of them silently deciding it’s not the time to stress over it just yet.

__

__

\---

__

__

It’s 4:38 pm on a Saturday, Hank’s left to go grocery shopping - Connor gave him a precise list of things they need and things they  _ really don’t _ need - and bringing Sumo for a scheduled check up visit at the vet clinic. Connor has finished working on the last case’s report, he fixed the toaster and watered Hank’s potted plants. He was looking for some time to be alone with himself.

__

He’s lying on Hank’s - their - bed, after he’s stripped down to the tight fitting boxer briefs he always wears under his suit. He’s not quite sure what he’s trying to achieve but the curiosity of finding out what he’s own body is capable of offering has been a constant thought in the back of his head for quite a while now. 

__

He turns off his connection to the web, his ambient temperature sensor, tries to isolate himself from external stimuli as much as he can. 

__

Slowly, he traces his bottom lip with his index finger, barely touching it. He takes a deep breath for no particular reason.

__

He knows what masturbation is. He did specific research on it even, read articles about it, watched videos on how humans do it. He’s learnt that there’s not a right or wrong way of masturbating, you just need to find what’s good for you. 

__

He runs his fingers down his neck, cupping his pecs with both hands and feeling himself up. He reaches the dip under his ribcage, presses there lightly, feeling the compact hardness of the thirium regulator slotted there, under his plastic coverage. It makes him feel  _ something _ . It’s an odd sensation, a slight displeasure, if he has to be honest with himself. He presses harder on it and he grunts, dissatisfied. This can’t be it, it’s nothing like it felt to be touched by Hank.

__

Maybe that is what he should focus on, how Hank makes him feel. He closes his eyes, his hand sliding up and down the flat plane of his abdomen. He thinks about Hank’s body, how tall and imposing he is. How it feels to wake up feeling Hank’s weight crushing him, how it felt that night on the couch to have Hank over himself, strong and completely able to hold him down.

__

A background whirring noise appears in his head and Connor knows he’s on the right way. He bites his lip, his hand hovering over the waistband of his boxers. He thinks about Hank’s hand on his ass, groping him, imagines how it would feel to be touched so possessively when he’s under him and he can physically feel an electric tension building up from his core. He parts his legs slightly, pushes the flat of his hand over his groin, experimentally palming the mound between his legs. 

__

He inhales sharply at the sensation. Repeats the same action, pressing down more decidedly. An interference flashes in his optical unit, blurring his vision for a quick moment. He whimpers. 

__

It feels good, like he’s satisfyingly fixing the bug that causes his software to overheat. He touches himself there again and spreads his legs further almost in automatic. His hand deeps lower and he runs the tip of his fingers up and down that strip of skin between his mound and his hole, making himself shiver at the contact. This time he outright moans, all his system overwhelmed by pleasure when his fingers press down and he starts to rub little circles on his skin to chase that sensation. It is somehow too much and not enough at once.

__

He imagines it’s Hank’s fingers touching him so explicitly between his legs and he moans again, this time covering his mouth with his arm, attempting to muffle himself even though there’s no one in the house who could hear him. He rolls on his side, burying his face on Hank’s pillow and inhaling what he learnt to categorize as Hank’s smell and his mental image feels more vivid, he almost can feel Hank’s rough hands exploring his body as Connor hides his face in the crook of his neck, he’d let Hank touch him in any way he’d like. He whines again, bliss building up and becoming more intense with every touch. 

__

Driven by his own lust, he lets his hand wander further down his body, his fingers reaching the rim of his hole, teasing it it lightly. He hums, confused by the sensation, it’s not as good as touching the sensors between his legs but something about it makes him want to try out how it would feel to have his fingers inside of his ass and, yeah,  _ maybe _ he did watch too much human porn to get ready for his self discovery. 

__

He circles his finger around his hole, intermittently applying pressure, his back arching when he does so. He brings his free hand to his mouth again, parting his lips and sticking three of his fingers inside of it. His DNA analysis sensor is turned off, he doesn’t really gain anything from licking things as of now, but he finds the gesture incredibly comforting, satisfying even. He runs his tongue between his own fingers, pushing them in to the first knuckle. 

__

It’s only then that he realises the door of their room is open. Hank is standing at the doorstep, his jacket folded over his forearm, grocery bags and Sumo’s leash still in his hands.

__

Connor, quickly but calmly, removes the fingers from his mouth and fixes his underwear as he sits up. He feels very much naked and defenceless under Hank’s staring but he doesn’t hate it. Quite the opposite actually, it turns him on even more, he feels electric. He wants Hank to look at him, he wants him to know how much Connor wants him.

__

Hank doesn’t move nor says anything for several long moments and Connor isn’t entirely certain of what he’s supposed to do. Then, he closes the bedroom door and Connor hears him walking down the hall. Immediately, he gets up from the bed rushing to the door, Hank has almost reached the living room when Connor gets to the hall.

__

“Hank, wait.”

__

Hank raises a hand and waves it, in a apologetic gesture. He doesn't turn back to speak to Connor.

__

“I’m sorry Connor, I didn't mean to intrude. I’m just- I’ll just give you space then we can talk about it if you wanna.” he takes a few more steps in Connor’s opposite direction as he speaks. 

__

“Take your time!”

__

He sounds embarrassed. It annoys Connor just a bit, because he really has no reason to be. He supposes the best way to deal with this situation is to be honest and direct, he’s got the feeling Hank will keep trying to avoid him if he does otherwise. 

__

Connor clenches his fists to his sides, he doesn’t falter when he speaks.

__

“Fuck me.” 

__

His voice is very low, but not a whisper and he knows it’s loud enough for Hank to hear.

__

Hank stops and turns back to him. It takes less than two seconds but it feels like ages to Connor. Hanks blinks, once.

__

“What did you just say?”

__

“I said fuck me. Please.” 

__

The reaction is immediate, Hank drops the grocery bags on the floor and closes the distance between himself and Connor in less than three seconds. His hands are around Connor’s waist at the same time their lips meet. 

__

He circles Hank’s neck with his arms just as he feels himself being swept off his feet, Hank lifting him up by the hips and ‘ _ Shit _ ’ Connor thinks, his arousal has never quite been so intense before. He closes his bare legs around Hank’s middle, their kiss heated and messy and he can’t bring himself to care, not with Hank’s lips trailing wet kisses to his jaw, his breath warm on his skin. Connor wants nothing else.

__

His software is currently hyperfocusing on two immediate concerns. One: he’s worried about Hank’s back, despite how good it feels to be bodily lifted off the ground, he rationally knows it mustn't be good for Hank. Two: he can feel Hank’s erection brushing against the back of his thigh and he really,  _ really _ wishes they’d be on a bed already, enough that the worry about Hank’s back becomes a minor concern as of now.

__

Connor pulls Hank’s hair, forcing him to look up at him and he doesn’t need words to  _ beg _ him to just bring him to bed already. Hank must see the request in Connor’s eyes because his own pupils go wide too and he walks toward their bedroom. His  steps are a bit uncertain at first, but the door is close enough that it’s not an issue. He drops Connor on the bed, not ungently, and watches him bounce a bit over the mattress. He lies back, his shoulders against the headboard, his hands awkwardly, or maybe impatiently, drawing imaginary lines up and down his chest, his abdomen. 

__

Hank sighs, Connor really is a sight. He undoes his belt, taking it away from the loops and he lustfully watches Connor’s eyes eagerly getting glued to the movements of his hands, almost enchanted. 

__

Connor spreads his legs imperceptibly. It feels good for Hank’s confidence to see Connor, so young, so flawless, so  _ beautiful _ , watching him like Hank is still young and desirable and not a sad old man who has been drinking too much for too many years. But this is really happening, Connor is just there in front of him, biting his lip as Hank unbuttons his shirt, blatantly staring at his naked chest and wide belly.

__

He would feel embarrassed by it in any other instance but Connor is so unashamedly sincere in his wanting that he can’t bring himself to doubt him. If he had been twenty years younger he might have teased him “ _ You like what you see? _ ”, made him get flustered, but right now he wants nothing else but to share something so new for Connor and he wants it to be good.

__

Connor mouths hangs slightly open when Hank gets rid of his pants and kneels on the bed wearing only his boxers. Connor has tangled his fingers together, held tight over his stomach, as if he’s keeping himself from touching either himself or Hank. Hank chuckles warmly.

__

“Hey. You can touch, you know?” he sounds so soft that he surprises both Connor and himself.

__

Connor disentangles his fingers immediately, opting for grabbing a handful of the sheets instead. Hank grins. If he’s being honest with himself he isn’t even that surprised that Connor looks so cute in this situation as well. 

__

He grabs Connor’s ankle, using his grip on it to pull him down on the bed so he’s closer to him, kneeling between Connor’s legs. In that moment Connor’s head is a complete mess, anticipation loud and noisy in his system and he doesn’t trust himself to do anything, he just looks at Hank like he’s about to explain him the truth of the universe. Both of Hank’s hands slide up his thighs and Connor has to actually focus to hold back a whimper.

__

A moment later Hank is over him, bending down on his to kiss is cheek. It’s so sweet Connor is torn between wanting to scream or laugh. Hank kisses his lips then and it’s, again, surprisingly sweet. This is something that Connor is comfortable with, that he knows how to do, responding to Hank’s kisses is the simplest thing in the world. He doesn’t even realise how the kiss quickly grows hotter, deeper, reflecting both their desire. He can feel Hank’s erection pressing against his lower stomach and his own sensors between his legs are tingling, incredibly receptive of the barest of touches, as if Connor had turned his pressure sensitivity to the max.

__

Hank’s hand travels down his side and stops over his hip.

__

“Can I take these off?” he asks, giving a short pull at the waistband of Connor’s underwear.

__

“Yeah. Yes, you can.”

__

As he feels the fabric sliding down his thighs, an oppressive kind of self consciousness creeps up on him. He knows he looks different than what Hank’s is used to and that he never indulged in seeking pleasure from androids unlike many other humans, so he cautiously keeps his eyes fixed on Hank’s, focused on studying his reaction.

__

He blinks twice, his mouth parting on a silent “Oh.”

__

He glances up at Connor’s face for a brief moment, then his eyes fall down to - the lack of - his genitals again.

__

“That’s-”

__

“Is that ok?” he can’t help but ask, needing reassurance and honesty more than anything else right now.

__

Hank looks him in the eyes again, giving him a look so soft it makes something shift in Connor’s chest and his software is too messy right now to know what that is. Hank cups one of his cheeks, tenderly running his thumb over Connor’s cheekbone.

__

“Of course it’s ok. You’re-” his eyes drop to Connor’s body, making a vague hand gesture. 

__

“You’re really something else.”

__

Connor smiles and Hank’s dumb heart skips a beat.

__

“Can I touch you?” he asks as he finishes untwisting Connor’s boxers from his ankle and throws them at the opposite corner of the bed.

__

“Yes, please.” his voice sounds calm still, but his software is a utter mess, craving Hank’s contact more than anything else.

__

“Okay.” Hanks says while bringing his palms flat over Connor’s stomach.

__

His left hand closes around his hip, his thumb circling the pointy shape of Connor’s plastic hipbone, his skin so thin over it. His right hand slides lower, hovering his above Connor’s groin. His skin is smooth and hairless there as it is on the rest of his body. He is not completely flat like Hank had imagined, he’s got a modest mound between his legs, as if he was wearing a packer, probably to give the illusion of having standard human genitals when he’s wearing clothes. Hesitatingly, he rubs two fingers against it. Connor whole body  _ spasms _ and, okay, he can work with that.

__

Connor lets Hank palm him, each shift of his hand sending little shock waves from his guts to his head. He likes the sensation but what he likes more than that is the look on Hank’s face, so focused and fascinated, like he’s enjoying learning how to pleasure Connor and,  _ shit _ , this whole sex with Hank issue keeps getting better.

__

“Hank.” his voice still mostly calm but it takes a lot of effort to maintain it plain. 

__

“You can touch me here too.”

__

He grabs Hank’s hand, placing it lower, so that Hank’s fingers are spread over Connor’s perineum. He applies some light pressure, curious. Connor’s fingers, still around his wrist, tighten. 

__

“Here? Like this?”

__

He presses down with both his palm and his fingers, grinding his hand against Connor’s skin in short, gentle strokes.

__

Impulsively, Connor presses his thighs together, trapping Hank’s hand between his legs.

__

“Yes.” he moans, his head thrown back.

__

“Jesus fuck.”

__

Hank sounds shocked, positively so. Connor glances down at him, the sight of Hank looking so undoubtedly messed up just by touching him is a lot to handle for his already overworked system. He closes his eyes and bites his lips, barely putting any effort in trying to hold back his whiny moans. He knows, rationally, that he should do something about the erection currently straining Hank’s boxers but he keeps getting lost everytime Hank touches him _ just right _ .

__

Hank bends down to kiss his chest, letting him feel the hint of teeth when he kisses his collar bone. The rough texture of his beard scratching him makes Connor’s toes curl.

__

His eyes snap open when he feels Hank’s finger brush against his perfect replica of a human asshole, the contact too deliberate to be casual.

__

“When you said you wanted me to fuck you, where you talking metaphorically or?”

__

“I want to have anal sex with you.” he claims with no hesitation.

__

Hank rolls his eyes. He can’t even be mad.

__

“Okay, it’s been a while but-” 

__

He stops talking, just stares at Connor who has just put three fingers in his mouth. He’s confused, but if he has to be honest, watching Connor’s jaw shift as he thoroughly licks his own fingers, eyes half lidded, is so wildly sensual that he feels his own dick leaking in his underwear.  _ Fuck _ . 

__

“What is it that you’re doing now?”

__

Connor pulls out his fingers, shiny with spit, and he’s got some of it on the side of his lips too dribbling to his chin. He looks so uncharacteristically messy that Hank really has to fight the urge to kiss him right there.

__

“My saliva is a suitable lubricant for this type of intercourse.”

__

Hank opens his mouth to reply to that but actually he does know that android saliva has a different, thicker and slimier consistency and he guesses he should trust Connor on this one. He just needs to get used to sex being definitely wilder than what he’s used to.

__

Neither of them says a word as Connor’s slick fingers reach his asshole. Hank watches the first knuckle of Connor’s index finger breach his hole and he feels the muscles of Connor’s thigh tense up under his hand.

__

“This feels.” he pauses, moves his finger a bit. “Weird. Not unpleasant.” 

__

Hank breathes heavily as he watches Connor finger himself with one finger, soon enough adding a second and speeding up the movement of his wrist.

__

“Feels better if I add more.”

__

“Yeah?  _ Fuck _ .” he whispers through clenched teeth.

__

He gives in, palming his own dick through the strained fabric of his underwear, letting out a sigh of relief the moment he gets some friction.

__

“Are you touching yourself, Lieutenant?”

__

Hank raises an eyebrow at that. Connor just called him by his title. He must be way more affected by this than he looks and knowing he is somehow making a hundreds of thousands dollars worth of operating system fuck up like this makes Hank’s pride burn and his dick twitch. He pulls his boxers down his thighs, eagerly starting to jerk himself off.

__

“I like that you’re doing it because of me.”

__

Hank curses. He releases the hold on Connor’s thigh, leaving a pearly white bruise in the shape of his fingers on it. He brings his hand in front of Connor’s mouth, tapping his lips impatiently. Through the confusion in his system, Connor still manages to get what Hank is silently asking, so he opens his mouth and welcomes Hank’s fingers in it. They’re much thicker and rougher than his and they make him feel full. He closes his eyes as he moves his head forward, taking them deeper. He hears Hank groaning and Connor moans in response.

__

Hank moves his fingers, letting Connor lick between them, tracing the line of his perfect bottom teeth, until Connor bites down on them, very gently, looking up at Hank to test his reaction. 

__

When Hank takes away his hand, a thick string of saliva connects them to Connor’s lips and as they both stare at it, almost enchanted, it ends up dripping on Connor’s naked chest.

__

“I really want to fuck you right now.” 

__

Connor nods, responding with a whine that sounds a lot like Hank’s name.

__

Connor sinks back into the pillow as he watches Hank finally stopping wasting any more time, hastily slicking his cock with Connor’s spit. He reluctantly stops fingering himself, immediately feeling the static in him build up again. It’s nearly unbearable now.

__

Hank kisses him on the mouth again and Connor is silently thankful for it since nothing reassures him as Hank’s kisses. As he feels Hank pushing inside of him, he closes his legs around Hank’s soft middle and grips the headboard with his hands. He has done quite a bit of research on anal sex, he knows the natural reaction he’s supposed to have is to tense up, but on the contrary, he just wants more. Hank pushes in with one, long thrust and Connor quietly moans his name when he feels him bottoming out inside of him. 

__

Neither of them says anything for several seconds - Connor isn’t able to calculate how many - before Connor speaks.

__

“Does it feel ok?”

__

“That’s supposed to be  _ my  _ line, Connor.” 

__

He exhales, loudly.

__

“But yes, it feels fucking good.”

__

He gives a short, experimental thrust. Connor makes a choked out noise.

__

“Connor? Are you-”

__

Connor places both hands on Hank’s face, forcing him to look in his eyes.

__

“Hank, please, do that again.” he says very solemnly.

__

Hank shakes his head and chuckles and, without adding anything else to that, he braces his forearms on both sides of Connor’s face and starts to thrust into him without any more pauses.

__

It doesn’t take long to build a steady pace, Connor realises as an afterthought, everything that is happening into the bedroom feeling kind of unreal. He’s lost in his programming, the oppressing feeling of being overcharged fading away every time Hank thrusts into him, the internal interface of his software hiccuping, getting short interferences every time the pleasure he’s feeling reaches a level that makes his back arc and his toes curl.

__

Hank is kissing his jaw, the side of his neck, his breath so hot it feels like it’s burning Connor’s skin even though he’s not even supposed to be able to feel pain at all. Connor tries to ground himself to the reality of what is happening by latching to Hank, clutching to his shoulders, relying on the weight of his body trapping him against the mattress as his own body gets rocked back and forth, the rhythm comforting and infuriating at once. 

__

Hank’s stomach presses down on Connor’s pelvis and, combined with the feeling of Hank’s dick reaching those same sensors from the inside, it’s absolutely messing with his perception because he can’t register anything that isn’t experiencing pleasure.

__

Hank drops his brow against the juncture of Connor’s neck, his hips picking up the pace and making Connor’s voice break into a moan. He places the palms of his hands back against the headboard, using the leverage to rock his body back against Hank’s thrusts, causing him to groan loudly and Connor can feel Hank’s teeth brushing against his skin.

__

“Connor, fuck, you’re so good.” he says as he straightens up, kneeling between Connor’s legs.

__

He fixes their angle a bit, moving Connor’s leg, absolutely pliant in his hands, to hook his ankle on his shoulder.

__

When Hank pushes in this new position, Connor’s optic unic blacks out for a moment, then, with Hank’s following thrusts, the blackout lasts way longer than a few moments and it affects most of his software.

__

“Connor, are you alright?” Hank asks, alarmed by Connor’s LED having turned bright red.

__

“Yes.” his voice comes out all wrong, metallic, he has to focus to recalibrate it to his usual tone.

__

“Holy fuck did you just- did I just break you?”

__

“No, please Hank, don’t stop, please.” his voice is a strained, whiny noise.

__

Hank moans, his hips stuttering, snapping against Connor’s ass so hard that the noise of it covers up Connor’s drawn out moans.

__

Connor finds himself immersed into nothing, nothing except Hank and his dick making him feel something so intense and absolutely wonderful that his programming gives up trying to process it. For a vague amount of time Connor finds himself stuck in some distorted place inside of his head. Everything is blurred, unclear, unreachable by any of his systems. He absolutely loves it, it’s a wild kind of peacefulness, something he didn’t think could be experienced.

__

Slowly, reality resurfaces, bit by bit, pixel by pixel, he becomes aware of his surroundings. His software still feels extremely light, his head floating, but soon enough everything comes back to its place.

__

He feels Hank pull out of him but he’s still too fucked out to process the sensation of loss that it causes him, and, as his system quickly reboots to his standard status, he watches Hank jerk himself off, fist closed around the tip, working himself in short, fast movements until he comes over Connor’s lower abdomen, some of it reaching his ribcage. Connor moans again, very quietly, overwhelmed. He keeps looking at Hank’s hand until it stills completely.

__

Hank pushes his hair back with his clean hand, huffing. He’s got a dopey smile pulling at his lips and Connor clearly manages to think that he looks so beautiful right now.

__

“Okay.” Hank says, out of breath.

__

He taps Connor’s leg.

__

“Are you sure you’re ok?” 

__

Connor takes a while to answer that. As soon as he has the ability to do so, he runs a full check up of his system status. He doesn’t detect any anomaly. Both his software and physical body work perfectly fine. His software just takes a little bit more than usual to load inputs but it is going back to ideal functionality with every passing second. 

__

“I am ok. Just tired, I suppose.” he states at last.

__

Hank laughs, dropping down on the mattress next to Connor. He covers his eyes with his hand and chuckles some more.

__

“ _ Tired _ .”

__

Connor recognises a distinct sarcasm in his voice.

__

“You tell  _ me _ . You’re the one who’s supposed to never get tired.”

__

“You’re making fun of me, don’t be mean.” 

__

Connor’s voice sounds playful too, big smile stretching his lips.

__

“I’m not, I’m not.” he drawles out. 

__

He turns, looking at Connor’s profile for a few seconds. He kisses his cheekbone, then the corner of his lips.

__

Connor turns toward him, meeting his next kiss, making a mess of it, too full of teeth, because he doesn’t quite manage to stop smiling.

__

“You should get cleaned up before you mess up the sheets.” Hank says, pushing Connor back with a hand on his chest. 

__

He doesn’t sound convincing at all though.

__

“Yes, I should.” 

__

He kisses Hank again instead, his beard tickling his chin as Hank laughs mid kiss. He gets pushed away again. 

__

“I’m serious, you really need a shower, you’re going to stink otherwise.”

__

“That is not my fault. It’s your sweat. And your come.”

__

Hank shrugs, feigning innocence with a smug face. He shifts, getting more comfortable and Connor watches lovingly how the pale strands of his his hair get everywhere on his pillow.

__

“Just want to nap and hug you know? So we should shower first.” then he adds after a pause “Possibly.” 

__

Connor hums, moving closer enough to Hank to rest his head on his pillow.

__

“Or we can do that in a bit, as soon as we wake up.” he says, half yawning.

__

Connor hums again, as Hank shifts a little to make room for him in his personal space. 

__

He wants to watch Hank fall asleep like always does, Hank’s expression so relaxed and soft tonight, but, as he’s lulled by the slow up and down of Hank’s chest, for the first time he drifts off before him, letting his system move to standby as he thinks about Hank, about himself, and everything they can learn about each other together.

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic, let me know what you think about it <3 English isn't my first language so I really appreciate any type of advice C: 
> 
> I do plan to add more fics to this series, either pwps or maybe even some multi chapter plotty fic, who knows! 
> 
> For fanfiction updates or general babbling about Hank and Connor being gross and cute you can find me on twitter [@ratty_lally](https://twitter.com/ratty_lally)


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